


round one, round two

by ghosthunter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, foolish rookies being foolish!, sex as stress relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-07-08
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18676549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosthunter/pseuds/ghosthunter
Summary: “Are you nervous?” Miro asks, reaching out and tugging Roope’s thumb from between his lips.“Are you not?” Roope asks him, his voice quiet. Miro grins at him.





	round one, round two

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Feileacan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feileacan/pseuds/Feileacan) in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Miro Heiskanen/Roope Hintz
> 
> Adrenaline-fueled sex after a game, maybe even after game one. Or sex pregame to settle Roope's nerves (since it seems like Miro doesn't know the meaning of "nerves"). Experimenting with each other because neither of them are very experienced. Any or all of the above!
> 
>  
> 
> well, feileacan, i hope that you enjoy this and i hope you got what you wanted. thanks to jarka for beta, per usual.

On the bus back to the hotel after morning skate, Roope is slumped in his seat, staring out the window at Nashville as it passes by, chewing on his thumbnail. It’s the left thumbnail. He’s already chewed the right one off and made it bleed.

He turns away from the window when someone bumps against him, taking the seat next to his. He’s not surprised to see that it’s Miro.

“Are you nervous?” Miro asks, reaching out and tugging Roope’s thumb from between his lips.

“Are you not?” Roope asks him, his voice quiet. Miro grins at him.

“It’s just a hockey game,” he says, after a moment.

“It’s a playoff game,” Roope says. He forgets, for a second, that Miro hasn’t played in a playoff game in the States yet. Roope played all the way through the Calder Cup Final. It’s not the Stanley Cup, but it’s still a lot of post-season games.

“It’s still a hockey game,” Miro says, and makes himself comfortable in the seat next to Roope, leaning his head against Roope’s shoulder.

They grab lunch together, with Esa and some of the Swedes. After lunch, they’re supposed to chill, go up to their rooms, get in their pre-game naps.

The curtains are pulled shut and Roope’s stripped down to his shorts, the room turned cold enough that he can use the blankets. It doesn’t matter how comfortable he gets, because he certainly can’t turn off his brain long enough to actually fall asleep.

He’s rolled over onto his stomach, eyes still closed, when he hears the knock on the door. He sighs, and rolls over and gets up.

It’s Miro.

“You’re supposed to be napping,” Roope says.

“So are you,” Miro tells him, pushing past Roope into the room. He makes himself at home, walking across the room and sprawling out on Roope’s bed.

“Why are you here?” Roope asks, closing the door and walking back across. He stands there at the end of the bed, awkward.

“Couldn’t sleep. Figured you probably couldn’t either,” Miro says. He grabs one of Roope’s pillows and jams it under his head.

“And so you coming here was supposed to help in some way?” Roope asks. “Other than getting me out of bed when I was about to doze off.”

“You weren’t,” Miro says. “You were lying here worrying.”

“Fuck off,” Roope says, and flops down on the bed to lay next to Miro. “You don’t know.”

“I do know,” Miro says. “All you’ve been doing for days is chewing on your fingernails. It’s not remotely sexy.”

“Oh, well, good thing I’m not trying to be sexy,” Roope says, and rolls his eyes, grabbing the other pillow and pulling it down to prop his face up.

“I had an idea though,” Miro says. “Because I couldn’t sleep either. Not because I’m nervous or whatever, but because there’s just this build up of energy -”

“Nerves?” Roope suggests. Nervous energy, without really being nervous. Anticipation. Adrenaline. Roope doesn’t know. He’s actually nervous about his first NHL playoff game.

“No, like.” Miro stops, and looks at him, then pushes himself to sit up. Then he’s looking down at Roope with his hair hanging over his face. “I just have this pent up energy. And I thought hey, I could work some of it off, and maybe help you with your nerves.”

“Yeah? How?” Roope asks.

“Let me get you off,” Miro says.

There’s a split second where Roope feels like he’s choking on his heart, like it’s clawing its way out of his throat. Or maybe that’s his stomach. He’s pretty sure his entire body is blushing. Everything feels hot.

“I can jerk you off, suck you off,” Miro says. “Whatever you want. It’s not a big deal.”

It is, Roope thinks. It’s such a big deal.

“Do you want me to - do you want me to -” Roope starts. Miro smiles at him, laughs. Roope’s older but suddenly he feels like the idiot teenager in this situation in the face of Miro’s brazen confidence. The confidence that he approaches everything with.

“Only if you want to,” Miro tells him.

And Roope says, finally, “okay.”

He doesn’t even know how this is supposed to start. He’s glad for Miro taking the lead, then, when Miro leans back down and kisses him. He wouldn’t have dreamed this in a million years, wouldn’t have ever put Miro’s face on a hundred faceless partners he’s fantasized about. But it’s Miro, cool and confident and a rookie the same as him, pushing him gently onto his side as they kiss.

Roope goes, easy, reaches a hand up to tangle into Miro’s hair as Miro’s hand travels down his chest and stomach, his fingers less confident than his words. Roope lets go of Miro’s hair, mimics Miro’s movements to push Miro’s shorts down.

Miro stops kissing him just long enough to lick his own hand before he wraps it around Roope’s cock. He even has the nerve to grin up at Roope when Roope makes a sort of gasping noise when Miro touches him.

“I could do us both,” Miro tells him. “Together.”

“What?” Roope asks, not understanding. Not having the brain power to understand, with Miro’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slow, his thumb rubbing slow circles around the head. Roope hasn’t even managed to get Miro’s cock in his hand.

Miro huffs a frustrated breath through his nose and wraps his hand around both of their dicks. Roope doesn’t know what kind of noise he makes at that, just that he makes one when he feels the hard press and soft skin of Miro’s cock pressed against his own.

“Yeah,” Miro says to him, suddenly a lot less articulate once his own dick is involved.

Roope leans back in to kiss Miro again, open and messy, his hips jerking into Miro’s hand as Miro jerks both of them off. Miro swallows down the moan that Roope lets out when he comes and keeps going, the movement of his hand slicker with Roope’s come. He keeps going even when Roope tries to push his hand away, overstimulated and oversensitive.

Miro stops when he comes, a sharp exhale of breath against Roope’s lips and a rush of wetness against Roope’s stomach.

“You think you can sleep now?” Miro asks him, still breathing hard.

Roope nods, his hand still wrapped around Miro’s wrist and Miro’s hand still wrapped around their cocks. Miro cleans them up so that Roope doesn’t have to move, and then curls up next to him as they finally fall asleep for their nap.

 

 

Miro’s the man of the hour after the game, still in all his gear after his postgame interview, named first star of the game, given the cowboy hat. Two goals in his first playoff game.

Roope feels pretty good himself, with a goal in his own first playoff game. All he can feel is the sweet rush of adrenaline and he only has eyes for Miro.

With all the media, Roope knows Miro will be the last one into the showers, and Roope wastes enough time so he’s one of the last ones in as well.

Adrenaline's still pounding in his ears from the win even after he’s stripped down and in the showers, turning his face up into the spray of water. He holds his breath as long as he can, letting the water beat on his face and slick his hair back.

“We won,” Miro says from behind him. “There’s no need to drown yourself.”

Roope laughs and almost does drown himself then, and moves his head out of the spray of water. “It feels good,” Roope says.

He finds some confidence inside him somewhere, like the afternoon’s hookup with Miro broke something loose, and reaches out and pulls Miro into the spray of his shower head.

“Hi,” Miro says.

“You scored two goals,” Roope says, and kisses Miro. He thinks that Miro is a little startled by it, looking for something to grab onto, but they’re both naked and there’s nothing. After a useless second of scrabbling, he rests his hand on Roope’s hip.

“I did,” Miro says, pulling back and grinning at him.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” Roope tells him.

Roope’s never seen Miro speechless, but Miro stares at him, his mouth open slightly. Roope grins and runs a hand over his hair, even though it’s slicked back from sweat and the water from the shower. Miro doesn’t have to say anything, though, because Roope gets down on his knees on the tile of the showers.

“Fuck, you really are,” Miro says, a little breathless, a little startled.

“Yeah,” Roope says.

He doesn’t say anything else, just closes his mouth around the head of Miro’s dick. He’s not an expert on sucking dick, but he’s done it a couple of times, and he’s had it done to him a lot. He thinks he knows a little bit about what he’s doing. It’s gross to go down on Miro without letting Miro shower first, maybe, and he smells like sweat and - and fucking hockey funk - and there’s something about it that’s actually kind of hot to Roope.

Two goals. Two fucking goals.

Roope pushes Miro’s cock in until he feels himself start to gag. He knows he can go deeper, if he works at it, and he wants to.

“I need,” Miro says to him, his voice a little fluttery. “I can’t - “

“Oh,” Roope says, pulling off Miro’s dick with a wet pop that’s barely audible over the showers. He pushes gently at Miro’s hips, moving him backward toward the wall. Roope crawls on his knees across the floor as he moves Miro.

“Okay,” Miro says, leaning back against the wall. Support, Miro needs the support. Roope can’t expect him to stay standing in the middle of the showers while getting his dick sucked. That’s fair, Roope thinks, and closes his mouth around Miro’s cock once more.

He pins Miro’s hip with one hand and wraps the other around the base of Miro’s cock, pushing himself to take more and more of Miro’s cock, to swallow it down. It’s hard, but he manages to make his lips touch his own fingers, and he’s pretty pleased with himself.

He does his best to swallow when Miro comes, lucky he’s kept Miro’s hips pinned to the wall. Come only dribbles down his chin a little bit, drips off to splatter onto his own cock. Miro stays leaned against the wall as Roope pulls off his cock and leans back, wipes his chin off with one hand and starts jerking himself off.

“Fuck,” Miro whispers, looking down at him.

“You should shower,” Roope says, a little breathless, his knees sliding farther apart. It won’t take much to get him off. Part of him wants to put Miro back in his mouth, just to enjoy him while Roope jerks himself off.

“You should come back to my room when we get to the hotel,” Miro says.

Roope comes with a startled noise. Miro grins at him, a self-satisfied smirk.

“Yeah,” Roope says.

Miro pushes himself away from the wall and steps into the spray of the shower. “You should get a shower,” he says.

Roope laughs, and pushes himself up off the tile.

**Author's Note:**

> on twitter @notedgoon


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